


Strange Bedfellows

by TeamDamon



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Also he has a beard, And a Boston accent, Chris Evans/Reader - Freeform, F/M, He's too charming for his own good, How could you resist, I blame Chris Evans and his stupid face for this, Politcal AU, Smut, Some feels too, You can't, You're running against him for Congress, and many other things, but mostly filth, feels with filth, my tags are always the worst, there we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamDamon/pseuds/TeamDamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were watching your dreams coming true before your eyes. All you had to do first was defeat the charming, more experienced, savvy, and incredibly handsome businessman running for the same Congressional seat as you. You had your work cut out for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I occasionally get the hankering to write a Chris Evans/Reader smut fic and then dump it here for all to see. I have no defense for myself, really. I greatly enjoyed writing this, though, and I've always been a fan of political AUs, as rare as they seem to be. In the interest of not pissing anyone off, I kept the characters here politically undefined and not affiliated with any party or ideology, because I'd hate it if the politics of either character made the reader dislike them. All that is specified is that they are running against each other, and you, the reader, can let your imagination fill in the politics :D I hope you guys like this, and if you do (or don't), let me know and leave a comment :D thanks in advance for reading!

Truth be told, you thought as a bottle of champagne was popped open and the crowd around you toasted to you and your night of victory, this was one the single happiest days of your life. And the best part of it might just be the fact that it's only the start of your dream becoming reality.

You knew what you wanted out of life from an early age, and you worked hard and went to college and spent your young adulthood studying and working while your peers partied and had the sort of college experience you simply didn't have time for. Those years felt like they both flew by and dragged by, crawling along at a snail's pace until they were suddenly over and then you were faced with then daunting task of actually putting your shiny new degree to work. To your dismay, however, being a female in her mid-twenties with a dream of being President of the United States one day usually only got you eye-rolls and very, very few calls back.

So you became a volunteer for the local chapter of your party and managed to scrape by working nights and weekends as a server in the district you hoped to one day represent in Congress when you were old enough. Driven by passion and the deep desire to get ahead and out of the service industry, not to mention also out of debt, you worked the longest and hardest of the volunteers and a year later landed a paid staff position in the reelection campaign of your district's current Congressman. It didn't pay a lot, but it was the best job you'd ever had and you were overjoyed to have it.

The campaign came as a surprise, as the expectation had been for the Congressman to retire that year. But he was giving it another go after ten years in office, even though his energy was noticeably lower than ever and in all honesty, he barely seemed interested in the job anymore. It was a shame, and it didn't come without ramifications. When he was late to one of the biggest and most important rallies of the campaign, his campaign manager - your boss - instructed you to go and notify the crowd of what was going on and try to distract them while he tracked the Congressman down.

So, though you were nervous and had no idea of what the hell to say to distract the crowd, you did as you were told. It just so happened that you were rather good at improvising, and your remarks became a brief but impassioned speech that resonated with the crowd. It also happened that one of the Congressman's biggest and most wealthy supporters was present, and he took notice of you that day and did not forget you. He thought that your youth and idealistic streak was just what the party needed to re-energize and reach more people. You had no idea of this, but you never forgot what it was like to stand at the podium and address the people like you'd always imagined you would one day.

After the Congressman was reelected despite his lack of enthusiasm, you found a permanent job at the party's downtown headquarters. It paid even less than the campaign had and you kept waitressing to pay the bills, but it was okay because you were slowly but surely getting to where you needed to be. You helped organize voter registration drives, volunteered in the community and worked behind the scenes on causes that you cared about, and you did your best to network and establish yourself as future political player. It didn't come without difficulty, as your gender put you at a disadvantage that should not have still existed in the current day and age. Sometimes you were told to cut your moderately long, wavy red hair and try to appear more masculine, as femininity would make the men not take you seriously and the women think you were trying too hard. You rejected this advice and dressed and looked as you damn well pleased.

Then, a few years later, the Congressmen announced that he was not seeking re-election, and both major parties began courting local possible candidates to run for the open seat. Such events were always chaotic, and the number of hopefuls was always high. You were old enough to run, but you didn't see much of a point in trying. As far as you could tell, you had probably ten more years' worth of political work and networking before anyone even remembered your name, let alone saw you as a viable option for even the state house or senate.

You were, however, quite wrong. You crossed paths with the wealthy supporter of the retiring Congressman again, and after a long and probing talk that had your head spinning, he suggested that you throw your hat into the ring with his support. You wondered if you were hallucinating, or had possibly been drugged, or if the man was just screwing with you for a good laugh. When it turned out that none of those things were true, you realized that this was real and happening and the moment that you had been waiting your whole life for. You seized the opportunity and afterwards called your parents and every friend you had and screamed the news to each of them.

Seemingly overnight, you formed a campaign with the aid of your benefactor and announced your candidacy. You were 28 years old and the youngest candidate for the party nomination, as well as the only woman. Four men were also vying for the nomination, and the youngest one among them was 46. Two were former mayors, one a CEO, and the other an accomplished doctor. You were pretty sure you didn't have a popsicle's chance in hell of getting anywhere near the nomination.

But then a debate was held, and you polled with just barely enough support to qualify for it. You had been working at the grassroots to garner support, trying to build it from the ground up, and television and radio ads made possible by your benefactor helped quite a bit. The debate would either make or break you, and you had never been more anxious or excited in your life. Debate had always been your strong suit, and you knew the issues inside and out; this was your chance to break out and establish yourself as a serious candidate.

Your poll numbers doubled following the debate. The CEO's dropped so low that he dropped out in a few weeks. Two months remained until the primary, and your campaign took off and your numbers continued to grow. In the end, it was you against the two mayors and one doctor in the primary, and you won. You were officially your party's candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives in the 8th district of Massachusetts.

The opposing party chose their candidate, too. You expected to run against some stuffy career politician, but instead... well. Suffice it to say, you had your work cut out for you.

Your opponent was 34 years old, unsurprisingly male, and he had never run for public office before in his life. He had a background in business and was an accomplished CFO for a corporation headquartered in Boston, and he brought a certain business savvy to the campaign that you knew would appeal to a lot of people. You were both newcomers to politics, but he had a background that made voters feel that he was competent and smart, and fiscally responsible. You were more than well aware that you had nothing like that on your resume.

He was also charming, disarmingly good looking, and funny. He didn't act like a politician. His speeches were witty and well-written and his delivery was so spot-on that even though you disagreed with some of his key positions, he almost made you want to vote for him.

The general election lasted five months, and your numbers ran neck and neck most of the time. You met your opponent for the first time at an event you were both required to be at, a benefit downtown for a children's charity that you were invited to, and he turned out to be even more charming in person than he was on television. He shook your hand and talked to you like an equal, told you he admired your courage and idealism even if you were wrong on almost everything. He said that with a smile and a tone that you shouldn't have liked as much as you did, and you retorted that you admired his commitment and success even though he was clearly and tragically misguided on his own views. He laughed and then you smiled for a series of photos together, and you definitely didn't notice how good he smelled or how gentle and respectful his hand on your waist was. Why would you notice such things?

You both made pledges to run positive campaigns and not run attack ads against each other, which did not please your benefactor. But you stuck to your guns, because you didn't want to get ahead by smearing someone else's name so that you could look better. You hated now negative and dirty politics could be. You were running for Congress because you wanted to make a difference, not because you wanted personal gain at the expense of someone else's dignity. It appeared to be one of the few things you had in common with your opponent.

You met again at the first of two debates that preceded Election Day, and by the end of the night, you weren't sure if you had ever had so much fun during a debate. A debate was no fun without the right partner, and as it turned out, the two of you had very possibly been made to verbally spar. The debate had only been meant to last 45 minutes to an hour, but it dragged on and lasted about 90 minutes. You ignored the moderator occasionally and directly asked him questions, and he did the same with you, and most surprisingly of all, you both laughed more than you would have ever thought possible. He was just so damn likable, and you found that you truly respected him because even though he was so terribly wrong on so many things, he was in the race for the right reasons and he was entirely sincere.

At the end of the debate, you shook hands and smiled for the cameras, and he leaned in close to your ear and told you _I could debate you all night_. You laughed him off and said something back, probably _good luck in the polls tomorrow_ or something similar, but you never could remember because of the little nearly imperceptible glint that had been in his eye as he'd pulled away. The thought had struck you that maybe he wanted to do more than just _debate_ you all night, but you quickly brushed it aside. You couldn't afford distractions, no matter how attractive he was or how much your skin had tingled under your ear when his rather luxurious beard had tickled it.

The second debate took place two weeks later, and it also ran longer than its allotted time. It was just as fun as the first one, but you were starting to get incredibly frustrated at how difficult your opponent was to find fault with. When a recent article describing you as well-meaning but too young and "weak in both image and strategy" was mentioned, he didn't agree with it. Instead, he pointed out that the entire article had been thinly veiled misogyny and noted that while you didn't need to be defended and could certainly handle yourself, he'd defend you anyway because equality was an issue that transcended politics and campaigns. Then he insisted that if your hair and clothes were to be so scrutinized, his should be as well. Then he asked the moderator with a deadly straight face if his blue necktie made him appear weak on crime, and you couldn't help but laugh. You also didn't miss the way that he then glanced at you from the corner of his eye and winked, as if the two of you were somehow close and totally in on some sort of inside joke.

A week later, he was placed on the front of a popular local magazine declaring him "Boston's most eligible bachelor". You rolled your eyes so hard that you nearly damaged your corneas, but you might have kept the copy that your campaign manager had showed you earlier that day and gave the photos inside a more in depth look once you were alone in your apartment for the night. You had only ever seen him in smart business suits before, but in one photo he was in a long-sleeved black sweater with a wide enough neckline that you caught a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from his collarbone. You then rolled your eyes at yourself and threw the magazine away, only to grab it back out of the trash can and look one more time before throwing it away again, for good this time.

Election Day arrived soon thereafter, and the polls were so close that all the pundits agreed that it was a tossup. The race had garnered a fair amount of national attention, considering the youth of the two candidates and the surprisingly civil campaigns, and when the polls closed and the votes were being counted, you and your entire campaign staff were camped out in one hotel while your opponent's was holed up in one directly across the street. You waited on the edge of your seat as the numbers rose, going back and forth between your favors, and your manager shoved a glass of wine in your hands when you nearly lost it from the anxiety. You sucked it down and then kept waiting, eyes glued on the TV, wondering if you'd have a political future left if you lost this race.

Then, around nine o'clock, the final votes were tallied. After a long, spirited, and lively race... you won.

 _You won_.

Your parents were there waiting with you, and they were the first to all but tackle you in huge hugs and with words of pure pride and joy. Then your campaign manager was next, picking you up and twirling you in his excitement, and you laughed as he then set you down and reached for the bottle of champagne he'd had ready and waiting for that moment.

It was a surreal, beautiful, amazingly satisfying moment that you would never forget. You had fought hard and you had won, beating the odds and putting your critics to shame in the face of your victory. It really was one of the happiest days of your life, and you had never been more proud of yourself in your life.

You were going to Washington D.C. as an elected public servant. This was real. It was happening. You had _made_ _it_.

And you were only getting started.

* * *

 

You gave your victory speech in front of the packed hotel ballroom, just after your opponent had given his concession speech. Normally, you knew, the losing candidate would call the victor to congratulate them before either one would address the media, but he had not called you yet. You weren't sure why, but you also didn't particularly care that much. After all, you were pretty much on cloud nine.

Following your heartfelt remarks where you thanked your amazing supporters for getting you to where you were and promised to do everything in your power to represent your district in the halls of Congress, you headed back up to the floor where your campaign had camped and proceeded to enjoy the party that ensued. Lively music played and drinks flowed, but you stuck to relatively weak champagne and kept your head on straight.

Your manager, a young man named Mike whom you had met from your days on the staff of your predecessor, threw his arm around you as you watched the party get more lively. He was very funny, very energetic, and also very, _very_ gay. You loved him, and you had every intention of taking him to Washington with you.

"Can you believe it?" he asked you for a hundredth time in the last hour. "We did it! _You_ did it!"

"I know!" you giggled, letting him hug and squeeze you again. "I really can't believe it. I'm still in shock. This is real, right? Like I didn't accidentally take some acid and hallucinate all of this, right?"

Mike replied by pinching your arm rather harshly. When you yelped at the unexpected sting, he grinned and said, "Nope! See? Not dreaming!"

You slapped him playfully on the arm and then glanced at the TV across the room, still tuned to election coverage. It was replaying a portion of your opponent's concession speech, and you couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Why hasn't he called yet? This is weird."

Mike shrugged. "Maybe he's so devastated he can't bear to speak to you yet?"

You shook your head, sure that wasn't it. You had no doubt that he was disappointed, but you doubted that he took it that hard. Besides, he still had his cushy job to fall back on, and he was something of a media darling now. He'd probably at least make it to the Senate one day. This was only a setback for him.

A few more moments went by, and you were halfway through another flute of champagne when you heard Mike audibly gasp before he suddenly grasped your arm. You looked at him with wide, confused eyes. " _What_?"

He whispered hastily, "Look who just walked in!"

You turned your gaze to the door, and you were just as surprised to see who had just strolled into the suite with an ice bucket and unopened bottle of champagne in hand. There he was, the man whom you had just been contemplating. He had a few of his aides with him, and he was smiling at your volunteers and greeting them with his usual friendly, far too likable manner.

So this was why he hadn't called. He had decided to congratulate you in person, bearing the champagne that had been meant to celebrate his own victory.

Mike gasped again. "His brother's with him."

You looked at Mike knowingly. "Go on. Go get your flirt on."

He smiled at you and then took your advice, just as your former opponent made eye contact with you and began heading your way. You smiled, pretending that a little tiny flutter of... well, _something_ hadn't just shot through your belly at the moment your eyes connected. You blamed the champagne.

"So," he said loudly enough to be heard over the music, his steps slowing as he approached you, "I'm a little late in giving my congratulations."

"Yes you are," you agreed, smiling as you eyed the ice bucket and champagne. "Did you need some time to soothe your ego?"

He chuckled, closing his eyes briefly and shaking his head. "Of course I did. Just ask my mom. I've been crying on her shoulder for the last hour."

You laughed at his joke, enjoying the sound of his voice a little too much. Your parents were Boston transplants, so you didn't have much of an accent yourself, but he certainly did and he made it sound _good_. "Your poor mother."

"Oh yeah. No, actually, I don't like that whole phone call tradition," he shrugged. "Felt too easy. I figured I'd just drop by and congratulate you in person and give this bottle of very expensive champagne a better home."

You set down the glass in your hand on a nearby table and then took the gift with a smile. "Well, thank you. We'll definitely give it a good home." That made him smile, and you paused before setting the bottle and ice bucket down. "Thank you also for... just being very... decent throughout this whole election. You could have really torn me down and used a lot of things against me that you didn't. So... thank you."

He looked a little surprised, and his expression grew slightly more serious as he nodded. "You're welcome. And same to you, really. I think we can both be proud of ourselves and the campaigns we ran." He paused. "You can be a little more proud, since you won and all."

Your smile returned. "Yeah, maybe just... a smidge more."

He smiled back, shrugging and then casually adding, "Now if only you'd see the light and realize you're on the wrong side of almost every issue..."

She rolled her eyes and then grinned, "I think you can leave now on that note, Mr. Evans."

" _Mister_ \- how many times do I gotta insist before you start calling me Chris?"

Feeling your cheeks heat slightly and again blaming it on the small amount of alcohol you'd had, you retorted, "Probably about as many times as it'll take for me to convince you that we're never going to agree on anything."

He scoffed. "Now that's not true. We agree on _some_ things."

You eyed him skeptically. "Like what?"

He thought for a moment, faltering slightly before gesturing to the champagne bottle and saying, "I bet we can at least agree that that's a fantastic bottle of champagne."

You glanced at the champagne, unable to get the stubborn smile off of your face, and grabbed it to inspect the label. You then bit your lip in amusement before looking back up and saying, "Actually, I prefer the extra-dry stuff, and this is Brut, so..."

He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay, I just... I give up. You're impossible."

You laughed and then quickly said, "I know, but hey, why don't you stay and have some? You came all this way -"

"From across the street," he chuckled.

"All the way from across the street," you grinned, "so why not?"

He looked at you with great amusement, like you were the most entertaining thing he'd seen in a long time, and finally he relented and took the bottle from your hands. "Fine. Loser gets the first glass."

"Deal," you smiled, and you wondered how you got so lucky that your first race for public office had ended not only in a win, but had been waged against an opponent who was so decent that you could share a joke and a few glasses of champagne with him after defeating him. You felt so comfortable around him that it was almost bizarre, and that had been why debating him had been such a blast. If you had met under different circumstances, you could completely imagine being wonderful friends with him, or maybe even...

The cork popped off of the bottle, interrupting your thoughts, and then he was pouring both of you glasses of the expensive bubbly stuff. He filled yours a little too much, and when a little bit spilled over the sides, you somehow didn't think twice about licking it off the side of the glass. Then your momentary lapse in judgment caught up with you, and you looked up at him to find a rather peculiar look on his face as he watched you. It only lasted for a moment though, during which he stared at you and then glanced down at your mouth before blinking and sweeping his glass forward towards yours with a smile. "To the new Congresswoman of the 8th District of Massachusetts."

You smiled and clinked your glass against his, shaking off the previous moment. "To me," you grinned cheekily, then took a sip.

"Here's hoping she's not as monumental of a failure as the rest of her party," he added before taking a casual sip of his own, and the way that you quickly gulped your drink and glared at him made him laugh with glee.

He and his brother and quite a few others from his campaign stayed for duration of the celebration, and you found that you didn't mind their presence at all. You thought that it spoke volumes of both of your maturity levels, and you didn't even mind him stealing the spotlight from you a bit. For being the loser of the night, he was no less energetic than ever. Some of your younger, female volunteers were particularly transfixed by his presence, and he seemed to very much enjoy the attention. He cracked jokes and flirted and they giggled and ate it up, and after an hour of this, you didn't even realize the way that you were glowering until Mike reappeared at your side and pointed it out.

"Can you blame them?" he asked, watching the girls not even try to be subtle as they fawned over the other man.

"Yes, actually," you replied without hesitation, like it was obvious. "He was my opponent, and they're basically all over him!"

"You're the one who invited him to stay and have fun!" Mike pointed out. "Besides, maybe you think I'm stupid, but I'm not and I've seen the way you look at him when you think nobody's paying attention. You'd be right there in the middle of those girls right now if you could."

You looked at your campaign manager with wide, defensive eyes and whisper-shouted, "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm not," he shrugged. Then he gave you a pointed look when you continued to appear scandalized. "Oh, come on. He's _gorgeous_ , so it's not like it's a bad thing. And the only times I've ever heard you giggle were when you were talking to _him_."

You narrowed your eyes and then muttered, "I do not giggle."

"You do."

"No. I do not."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever. Denial's not just a river in Egypt, you know. But for what it's worth," he leaned in and whispered, "I've caught him checking you out more times than I can count."

Now you _knew_ that he was delirious. "You're drunk."

"I'm not."

"Then you're delusional."

"Say what you want," Mike shrugged as he slipped away, "but you know I'm right."

You swallowed as you watched him walk away, and then you looked back across the room to where the subject of that last conversation was now dancing with one of the girls, twirling her around casually as she giggled happily. You narrowed your eyes, barely aware of your own actions, and then when he looked up and caught you watching, you quickly looked away and decided that you needed some air. A lot of air. Lots of cold, _cold_ air, because clearly the anxiety and craziness of the big day had gotten to you and your brain was the consistency of a scrambled egg.

You stepped out on to a terrace, the November night air quite chilly and a big change from the slightly overly warm air inside. You walked to the edge, holding on to the rail and taking a deep breath as you looked out at the city lights and the cars darting to and fro on the world below. The city was your home, but soon you'd be in D.C., where you had always imagined you would end up. Now that it was happening, it didn't feel real. You had expected this to happen in your thirties, but you were still two years shy of your 30th birthday. You had already exceeded your dreams, and how many people ever got to say that?

"Aren't you cold out here?"

You almost jumped at the sound of his voice, having been so briefly lost to your thoughts that you hadn't even heard his footsteps. You turned your head and then shook your head as you smiled, pretending that your eyes weren't drawn to the way that the top of his shirt was now unbuttoned and his tie half undone. The edge of that tattoo of his was peeking out at you again, and you had to force yourself to look away.

"Not really. It was too hot in there. Too many people in one room," you replied, looking back out at the city. He came to stand beside you, and you kept your eyes forward even though you wanted to peek at him again.

"Well, it's freezing out here," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked at you and your outfit - knee-length blue dress with half sleeves, pretty while still being respectable and appropriate for a Congresswoman - and then said, "I'd offer to be gallant and give you my jacket but I have a feeling you'd refuse."

You looked at him with an amused smirk. "Why in the world would you think that?"

He looked back at you with a pointed but just as amused expression. "No idea."

You glanced back towards the glass doors, behind which the party was still going on and a few people were glancing your way, clearly interested in what was going on between the two of you on the terrace. You then remarked, "You should get back inside. The girls are missing their entertainment."

His eyebrows shot up and a disbelieving smile crept up on his lips. "Is that a hint of... bitterness I'm hearing?"

You scoffed. "Of course not. I'm just saying, I'm sure they're wondering why you're out here freezing with me."

He shrugged lightly then, glancing back out to the city. "Guess I prefer your conversation, even if most of the time it makes me want to physically grab you and shake some common sense into you."

You laughed. "You? Shake common sense into me? Now that's a stretch, even for you."

"Well, I _am_ flexible," he retorted, looking at you in time to catch the roll of your eyes. He grinned briefly before looking down and saying, "Actually, I did come out here for a reason. Mike went down to the front desk and got you this."

He then handed you a small little white card with a room number on it, and you looked up at him questioningly as you took it. He explained, "So you don't have to worry about getting home. You can just take the elevator up a couple floors and crash."

"Oh," you smiled, taking the keycard and nodding. "Okay. Sounds like Mike. He's always looking out for me like that."

"He's nice," he agreed. "He and my brother seem to be getting along pretty well."

You chuckled, turning the card in your hand. "Oh boy. Let the gossip begin."

"Well, if we stay out here much longer, the gossip isn't gonna be about them," he said, and you looked up at him curiously.

His blue eyes were casual but fixed upon yours as you asked, "Why? We're only talking."

"You've already invited me here to share in your big victory party. Now you're standing out here with me," he said, inching closer to you so that his side nearly brushed yours, "and I just handed you a hotel key. There's only so many reasons why a guy gives a beautiful woman one of those."

You opened your mouth to retort, but then your words got stuck in your throat when you realized that he'd just somewhat sneakily called you beautiful. He enjoyed your brief moment of speechlessness, but you quickly shook it off and said, "Well, if anyone thought that, they'd be nuts."

He nodded lightly, still standing too close to you, close enough for you to get another whiff of that now-familiar scent that was unique to him. Your eyes betrayed you, landing back on his throat and the words inked just under the collar of his shirt as he asked quietly, "Would they?"

Your gaze snapped up to his, and you weren't sure if he was slowly moving even closer or if it was all in your imagination. You realized in that moment how unfairly long his eyelashes were, and you found yourself a bit frozen though it had nothing to do with the cold weather. You weren't sure what was happening or why, but as your heart began to pound and your breaths grew shorter, you got the feeling that you would soon find out.

But then the doors to the terrace burst open and two of your staff came stumbling out, half-drunken and fumbling with a couple of cigarettes and a lighter as they laughed obliviously. Your former opponent moved away from you, putting a safe distance back between you, and you were surprised at how disappointed you felt. You blinked a few times, realizing how cold you were and quietly muttering that both of you should get inside. He agreed, and then you both headed back through the doors without another word spoken between the two of you.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration nagging at you as the night went on. You were growing tired of the noise and the people, and the sound of the room waiting upstairs for you was sounding more and more appealing, but despite how exhausted you were, you weren't ready to crash either. You couldn't put your finger on what was missing until the next time a certain pair of blue eyes caught yours from across the room, and the resulting little jolt of butterflies in your belly was all you needed to know exactly what it was that you wanted.

It had been quite a long time since you'd had the time or the opportunity to blow off some steam, so to speak. You had been single since your second year of college, and you were rather picky when it came to who you'd give the time of day to. Put simply, you were deprived, and now after watching all of your hard work pay off and riding the high of victory while also finding yourself within close proximity of the most disgustingly attractive man you had laid eyes on in ages...

Maybe Mike had been on to something after all.

As the celebration began to wind down and you debated your options and how courageous you were, Mike tracked you down and told you with an excited slur, "I'm leaving now. Going across the street."

You raised an eyebrow and grinned knowingly. "Across the street? To the other hotel? I bet you're not going alone."

He nodded happily. "Nope, not alone. I need this so bad, you have no idea, it's been a long time..."

You did have an idea - a _very_ clear, accurate idea - but you kept that to yourself.

"Anyway, here," he said, shoving a second room key into your hand. "I was gonna go crash with you, be your bodyguard and all, but... I mean... what can I say, I'm gonna go be a slut instead."

You laughed. "That's totally fine. You go be a big fat slut - you've earned it."

He giggled and then cupped his hands around his mouth to then whisper cheekily _so_ _have_ _you_ as he then walked away. You laughed and shook your head, wondering if he wasn't right about that too.

You looked down at the extra hotel key in your hand, biting your lip as a thought suddenly popped into your head. The night was late, your parents were gone, and if you decided to go out on a limb and take a chance... nobody would know. Nobody would never even suspect a thing. This might be the last thing you could get away with for some time.

... Could you? More importantly, _should_ you?

You spent a moment contemplating your options before you realized how very silly you were being. This was your night of victory, and you deserved to have exactly what you wanted. And if you wanted a night with a man who angered and frustrated you as much as he charmed you and made you laugh, then God help you, you would have it. You would have _him_. You suddenly couldn't think of a single reason why you shouldn't.

You told the staff your goodbyes, thanked them all again for their hard work, and then told them you were heading off to crash for the night. Many of them hugged you and they all congratulated you again, and when you worked your way to the door and the last person remaining to say goodbye, you found yourself face to face with the man whom you simply couldn't get out your head. You smiled at him and extended your right hand, and when he grasped it to shake it, you pressed the extra room key into his hand and smiled, "Thank you for being a good sport and... helping me celebrate tonight."

He raised an eyebrow when he felt the press of the plastic against his palm, but he stayed cool and replied with a smile, "Oh, of course. What kind of man would I be if I couldn't celebrate my own defeat?"

"The average kind," you chuckled before pulling your hand away. "But yeah... I really do wish you the best of luck. And I hope we can work together someday."

His grin gave away the fact that he completely understood what you really meant by those words. "Yeah. I'd like that."

You then smiled one last time before turning and walking to the door. You could feel his eyes on you, and you couldn't deny that you rather enjoyed the feeling. You were already alight with anticipation, and you hoped that he wouldn't waste any time in accepting your open invitation.

After you left, he looked down at the room key in his hand, grinned to himself, and then slipped it into his pocket before looking up and schooling his features to give nothing away.

The night was growing late, but your celebration might have been only getting started.

* * *

 

As tired as you were, you were restless as you settled into your hotel room for the night. Leftover adrenaline and excitement from the day had faded and left you feeling antsy, the residual energy humming in your veins and looking for an outlet. You took off your shoes and washed your face in the bathroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror and unable to help but grin when you realized that you were looking at the face of a newly elected Congresswoman.

Twenty minutes passed as you made yourself at home, eventually plopping down on the bed to test out how comfortable it was. You sunk down against the comforter and the pillows, finding the bed more than satisfactory and letting out a deep sigh as you wondered if the guest that you had invited would show up after all. You closed your eyes, wondering if maybe you had misread his signals and made a mistake. Maybe he was back with his own staff right now, drinking the rest of the champagne and laughing as he told them all how you had slipped him a room key and propositioned him without a word. Maybe that was exactly what he had wanted, luring you into making a fool out of yourself so that he could get a good laugh out of it.

What if he told someone, and they told someone else, and soon everyone - the press, your constituents, your friends, _your_ _poor_ _mother_ \- would know, and you would start your career being known as a promiscuous young woman who was so desperate for it that she went as far as to invite her own opponent back to her hotel room the very night that she had been elected?

You brought your hands to your face and groaned. It was unfair, because if you were a man, nobody would bat an eye at such revelations. It would be almost expected of you, and yet because you were a woman, you were expected to dress about twenty years beyond your age, never fix your hair or makeup _too_ much, and be the picture of chastity. As if any of that had anything to do with how well you served the people you would soon represent in Washington.

You checked the time again. Thirty minutes had passed. He wasn't coming.

You groaned again and rolled on to your stomach, burying your face in the pillows in dismay. How could you have been so stupid? You knew better than this, and yet here you were anyway, kicking off your public life with a stupid, idiotic and somewhat desperate mistake that you had no doubt would only come back to bite you in the...

 _Knock_ _knock_.

Your head snapped up so fast you almost hurt yourself. You looked at the door in shock, and then you stumbled off of the bed as fast as you could, smoothing out your dress and your hair as you quickly as you could, your heart suddenly hammering in your chest. Maybe all wasn't lost after all.

You took a breath before you grasped the door handle and pulled, unable to help but smile when you saw _him_ standing on the other side. He had one hand leaning on the doorframe, a grin matching yours on his face and an already-present heat in his eyes as they locked with yours.

You almost groaned. He really was unfairly beautiful, to the point where you could almost envy him.

"You know," you said once you recovered your wit, "the point of being given a room key is not having to knock."

"Yeah, but that would have been rude," he replied, his eyes falling from yours slowly to scan down the rest of you, all the way to your now-bare feet. You were blushing by the time his eyes flickered back up and he remarked, "You're short."

You rolled your eyes and stepped aside to let him in. As he walked inside, you told him, "I've had to wear giant heels every time I've been around you. My advisors felt that having you tower over me in pictures would make me look too..."

"Submissive?" He guessed, eyeing you as he shed his suit jacket and you closed the door.

"Something like that," you replied, staying cool on the outside despite how you were nearly losing it on the inside. "So yeah. You've wreaked havoc on the state of my feet."

"Sorry about that," he said, again looking you over as you slowly approached him. "If you want, I can try to make it up to you."

You grinned knowingly and, rather than walk to him, you kept going until you were nearly back to the bed. Without looking back at him, you said, "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

You perched on the side of the bed, turning your eyes back to him as he casually toed off his shoes. "Well, I had to give it some time. If I left right after you did, might have attracted attention." He then paused and, his gaze lingering on your lips as he began to walk towards you, he added, "Trust me, I didn't want to wait."

The way that he said that, you couldn't doubt him. You watched him as he sat down on the bed next to you, close but not too close. You both knew why he was there and what was about to happen, but he wasn't being overly presumptive or aggressive. That was nice, at least for the moment.

You angled yourself so that you were facing him a bit more, and you were rather proud of how calm you were remaining on the outside when you were starting to positively tingle with anticipation on the inside. He looked at you for a moment, his gaze again catching your lips before he smiled a little and said, "You know, I wasn't expecting this at all."

You let yourself smile back, letting just a fraction of your nervous energy out. "Well... that makes two of us."

"I thought you hated me," he admitted.

"I don't hate you," you told him, meaning it. "I mean, you drive me crazy and talking to you is like talking to a brick wall, and you're so biased that you can't see reason half the time, but... you have your good qualities, too."

He squinted playfully and grinned, "Are we talking purely physical, because I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered. Or both."

"I mean, you're not horrible looking," you teased, unwilling to admit how delicious you found him just yet. You were still getting used to admitting it to yourself. He laughed and you added, "But no, I think that you genuinely believe in what you say, and I don't think that you're only in it for yourself. You care. You just happen to be completely wrong on about 95% of the issues."

"So I'm an idiot," he surmised, "but a well-meaning idiot."

"Essentially," you grinned. "I'm sure you would say the same for me."

He paused, pretending to contemplate for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I think you're very smart - maybe even brilliant - beautiful, tough, definitely a born leader. But completely lacking the real world experience you need to realize how naive and unrealistic your ideology is."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So if I made $400K a year at my own giant blood-sucking major corporation, would I then magically have this real world experience I'm supposedly lacking?"

"... See, once again, you're missing the point," he replied, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. "But you asked. That's my opinion. I think you'll come around one day. You're too smart not to."

"Or maybe I won't," you mused. "Maybe you'll change your mind instead." Before he could reply, you grinned and added, "Then when I run for President someday, maybe you can be my VP."

He laughed, and so did you. "Really? Well, that might be worth going over to the dark side."

"Maybe," you agreed, your eyes falling again to the peek of his chest under his shirt when he shifted slightly and his collar moved with him. That tattoo was taunting you at this point, and you lost your patience. You moved forward, reaching out and bringing your fingers to his shirt and undoing the second button. He looked at you with sudden seriousness, his breath hitching at your proximity, but you kept your eyes down and fixed on the scrawl of words as you pulled on his collar so that you could read them.

"I've been dying to know what the hell this says," you admitted as you began to read. You didn't know what to expect, but the tattoo read, _when_ _you_ _lose_ _touch_ _with_ _inner_ _stillness_ , _you_ _lose_ _touch_ _with_ _yourself_. _When_ _you_ _lose_ _touch_ _with_ _yourself_ , _you_ _lose_ _yourself_ _in_ _the_ _world_. You traced the words with your fingertips, his skin soft and warm under your touch, and then you told him, "I like that."

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice heavier now, and the rougher tone made your eyes flit up to his. You were much closer now, just a few inches between the two of you, and when you let your hand drop from his chest, he let one of his own gently slide to your leg, just above your knee and over your dress. He started to lean in closer to you, eyes fixed on your lips again, and you held your breath as you prayed for the contact you needed so badly.

"You really are beautiful," he told you quietly, softly as his nose brushed yours, and you let out the breath you had been holding as your self control snapped. Your hands darted to his face and you crashed your lips on his, unable to wait any longer and feeling like you were suddenly lit on fire from that very first kiss. His lips were soft and a stark contrast against the roughness of his beard as it gently scraped your chin, and the first touch of your lips to his quickly gave way to a deeper kiss. It was hard and desperate because you made it that way, and the way that he groaned softly in what was either slight surprise at your fervor or pure arousal was almost your end.

His hand left your leg to tangle in your hair, cupping the back of your head as he angled you a little differently and briefly broke the kiss. He took a breath and then kissed _you_ this time, his pace much slower and more thorough than yours had been. Your hand went to his shirt and started impatiently working at the buttons while you struggled to retake control of the kiss, and it wasn't long before he pulled away and said with an amused smirk, " _Relax_. What are you in such a hurry for? We've got all night."

You huffed and then wasted no time in climbing on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as your hands went to his shoulders and his immediately found your hips. You looked him in the eye and told him, "I don't want to wait. I've been waiting long enough."

"You _have_?" he asked with clear delight, and you realized that he took your words as an admission of having desired him for much longer than you had previously let on.

You would have clarified your statement and set him right, but you suddenly weren't sure what the truth was. Maybe you _had_ been wanting this, wanting him, for longer than even you had realized yourself.

"Maybe," you settled on answering him, sliding your fingers into his dark brown hair. It was soft and short, but long enough that you could grab a handful and pull it if you wanted to. Maybe you would later, just to see if he liked it.

He groaned just barely audibly and pulled you back down for another kiss, a quick and surprisingly deep one. After, he murmured against your lips, "First time I met you, I couldn't believe how fucking gorgeous you are. I'd seen you on TV and everything, but..." he looked up at you and traced his thumb over your lower lip. "Doesn't compare to the real thing."

You closed your eyes and kissed him again, aware that he could very well be sweet-talking you and only trying to tell you what you wanted to hear, but... he certainly _seemed_ like he meant everything that he said. His hands slid down your thighs, to the hem of your dress which he then dragged up as his tongue hungrily tangled with yours. You hadn't had a single kiss that good in _ages_ , and your head was already spinning. He tasted _good_ , he felt good, and the feel of his hands gripping and roaming the bare skin of your legs was better than you could have imagined it would be. You needed those hands all over you, without clothes in the way, so you reached both hands behind your back without breaking the kiss to find your dress's zipper.

He helped you find the elusive zipper and pull it down, and then you were both pulling the dress off and over your head. You let go of it and let him drop it on the floor, tossing your hair back behind your shoulders as he raked his eyes over the sight of you in only your lingerie. It was a basic but pretty black set, simple and classic, and his hands ran slowly over your waist and down your hips just before he suddenly gripped them and stood up. He held you up effortlessly, like you weighed nearly nothing, and you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck to hold on to him. He grinned at you and then turned you both around, dropping you on the bed gently and stretching out on top of you.

Your lips collided in another passionate, increasingly desperate kiss, and your fingers worked through the remaining buttons on his shirt tellingly quickly. He shrugged it off and cast it away without breaking the kiss, and your hands instantly went to his chest to feel it and find out what was under all of those expensive designer suits of his. What you found were hard, impressive muscles, and a few more tattoos on his arms and his side. While he kissed and suckled at your neck, you hooked your leg over his hip and flipped him over on his back, so that you could have a more _thorough_ look at him.

Hands planted on his chest, you sat back on his hips and licked your lips as you looked him over. He was almost sickeningly perfect, even better than you had imagined, and you hadn't even gotten his pants off yet. You couldn't help but grind your hips down on his, the friction making his fingers flex on your hips and your eyes dart up to his. You grinned as you rocked your hips again, deliberately this time, and you teased, "It's a shame all those suits of yours hide all of this."

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his chest, just under his collarbone, and then began an increasingly open-mouthed line downwards as his fingers tangled in your hair and he replied a little breathlessly, "Yeah, well, look who's talking."

You peeked up at him as you kissed over his ribs, sitting back up and again tossing your hair out of your face as you said, "Well, God forbid I ever show any cleavage or too much leg. Who'd vote for me then?"

"Me," he grinned, running his hands up your sides and then cupping your breasts through your bra for emphasis. You grinned and then reached behind you to unhook the bra when he pulled down both straps from your shoulders, and after you flung it to the floor somewhere, you almost moaned just at the feeling of his hands covering your breasts and softly caressing them. It wasn't long before he sat up, dropping one hand to replace his fingers with his mouth as he showered your breasts with exactly the sort of attention that you craved.

Your back arching and hips rocking again in a firm, needy rhythm on his lap, you grasped his hair and let a soft moan escape your lips as his tongue flicked and swirled along your nipple, sending hot jolts down your body and making you need more, so much more. When he stopped to take a breath, he groaned a muffled _so_ _fucking_ _hot_ against your skin before pressing a kiss between your breasts and then changing your positions again. This time he laid you flat on your back and got on top of you again, kissing your mouth hard and not stopping your hands as they went between you and began tugging at his belt. You kissed and he groped deliciously at you as you got his pants undone and shoved them down his legs as far as you could, making sure his underwear went with them, and finally he broke away to lean back and fully rid himself of the needless clothes.

You leaned up on your elbows, watching and then letting your eyes widen for just the briefest of moments, just a little bit, at the sight of _all_ of him. He was... proportionate, and being as tall and broad as he was, that meant that you were in for quite the night. You bit your lip and then heard him playfully chastise you as he lowered himself back down to you, "Hey, my eyes are up here."

You giggled softly just before he kissed you, laying you back down and putting a little more of his weight on you this time. You liked the way it felt, liked the safety and the warmth of his larger body on yours, and you moaned shamelessly as he kissed you once more. You felt like you'd simply burst if he didn't touch you soon where you needed it most, and to your relief, he seemed to understand this. He shifted his body towards your left side, so that he was still on top of you while also making room for his hand to slide down your stomach and not stop until his fingers were finally between your legs, touching you softly through your underwear that was stupidly still on.

You moaned into his mouth, legs falling open wider and hips pushing against his almost too-soft touch. He drew away by an inch or two to look down at your face, watching you as you closed your eyes and moved almost wantonly, telling him what you needed without having to say a word. He obliged, sliding his fingers into your panties to touch you directly, and that was when he cursed under his breath and said in a strained, painfully aroused tone, " _Fuck_ , you're soaking wet, baby."

Your brain broke a little at the unexpected pet name, though it sounded absolutely perfect coming from his lips. He kissed you again, hard and deeply as his fingers circled you and made you whimper at how perfect it was. It had been a long time since you'd felt anyone's fingers but your own, and _his_... they certainly must have enjoyed quite a bit of practice to be as good as they were.

He didn't stop until he made you see stars, sucking a mark into your neck as your nails bit into his back and you gasped and shook with the impact of your much-needed release. It rolled over you in waves, absolutely perfect but yet not exactly satisfying. In fact, all it did was whet your appetite for more, and as soon as you had regained the ability to move and to think, you got him back down on his back and, after shedding your panties at last, straddled him with shaky legs. There was nothing between you now, only skin and heat and passion that you never would have guessed you'd share with a man like him.

"You recover fast," he noted with a grin just before you grinned back and kissed him. Your body dragged against his, your breasts on his chest and his incredibly hard arousal pressed against your belly, and you found that you wanted to make him moan and writhe just as he had done to you.

So, you reached down and grasped him firmly in your hand as you cheekily replied, "What can I say, I'm a hard worker."

It was your turn to watch as you touched him, and you weren't disappointed. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily at your first few slow, gentle strokes, and then as you began to work out a rhythm, you got to watch his lips part and brows furrow as his breaths grew shorter. You kissed his neck as you pleasured him, well aware that he had marked you at least once already and repaying him doubly with a few marks high enough on his neck that his usual shirt collars wouldn't cover them. If you had to cake makeup on your neck for the next few days, then he would too, damn it.

He had just started thrusting into your fist when he reached down and covered your hand with his, drawing it away with a breathless plea to stop for both of your sakes. You grinned and relented, kissing him and shivering all over when he growled and rolled you on your back, devouring your mouth with his and kissing you like he wanted to utterly _consume_ you.

The next few moments were a blur of lips and tongues and desperate hands, and when you ended up back on top of him again, you had every intention of sinking down on him and riding the hell out of him until you both lost your damn minds. But he had something else in mind first, and you found out what that was when he broke your latest kiss to tug at your hips and tell you, "Come here."

You tried not to laugh. "I'm right here."

"No," he shook his head, licking his lips and squeezing your hips to give you a big hint. "Come here. Ride my face."

 _Oh_. You suddenly blushed harder than you had in years, loving his mind and the way that it worked. You bit your lip and asked, "You sure?"

"Absolutely," he assured you, his eyes and his tone full of lust that you mirrored. "Come on. I know you wanna use me, show me who's boss."

You knew right then, the minute he spoke those words, that you had never been more aroused in your life. This man was utterly killing you, and you loved it more than words could say.

"I'm the boss, huh?" You teased as you began making your way up his body, his helpful hands guiding and steadying you along the way.

"Tonight you are, Madam Congresswoman," he grinned up at you.

"So if we did this another time... you would be 'the boss'?" You guessed, hovering over his chest as you nearly completed your journey.

"Let me tell you something," he said as he stroked his hands up and down your thighs, looking up at you earnestly. "I haven't been this submissive with a woman in years. I like being in control. But you... fuck. I'm breaking all my own rules for you."

Your blush returned with a vengeance. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really. Now come here before I lose my fucking mind."

You quickly obeyed, taking the final step and then placing your palm on the wall behind the bed for balance as you took your rather vulnerable position over his face. You had never actually done this before, and you didn't want to smother him or _drown_ him, so you stayed where you were until he reached up and pulled you down on his hungry mouth. You yelped, your hand slipped off of the wall, and you just barely caught yourself before you nearly tumbled right off of him. He held you steady, chuckling and sending a faint vibration humming through your center, and you cursed him and praised him in the same breath as he began his assault. And it was undeniably, unspeakably _perfect_.

He groaned and made noises like there was nowhere he would rather be than underneath you, using his clearly well-honed skills to drive you utterly mad. You, for your part, could barely stay upright once he hit his stride and started _really_ going at it. You had both hands braced on the wall, occasionally looking down to watch him as he worked, and you had never seen a man so enthusiastic about this sort of thing. It didn't take him long to make you fall apart again, your head thrown back and a breathless, uncontrollable moan spilling from your lips. He kept you steady the whole time, even after you had caught your breath and he was kissing and nipping along your inner thighs.

You had almost calmed down and recovered when you felt him again, his tongue finding you again and making you gasp from how sensitive you were. You almost made him stop, but once the initial shock of it wore off, the very last thing you wanted to do was make him stop.

The problem was, your legs could barely hold you up anymore, even with his support. You felt like you might collapse at any moment, and in your mindless haze, a solution occurred to you that you were sure he'd like.

Using what little strength you had left, you put your hand on his forehead and then eased off of him. He opened his eyes and panted a little as he began to ask, "What are you -"

"Shh," you hushed him, turning around and reversing your previous position. After you settled back down over him, he groaned with understanding and you shot him a grin over your shoulder. You leaned down, running your hands over his abdomen and thighs as you teasingly kissed your way down, taking him in your hand first. He nuzzled your inner thigh and sighed, his beard tickling and scratching at your sensitive skin, and then he let out a rough moan that set you on fire all over again when the heat of your mouth engulfed him. Then he growled and set his mouth back to you with a new passion, and you were soon both utter wrecks.

This was something else you had never done before, and it took you by surprise how much you loved it. Your mouth worked its magic on him, rivaling what his was doing to you, and together you managed to build a rhythm and move almost perfectly in sync with one another. It was as sweet as it was chaotic, feeling like it lasted forever even though it was only a few moments before he got you _there_ again and you had to pull away to gasp and ride it out. You were breathing hard as you came down, raking your hair back with shaky fingers and then leaning down to resume the task at hand, only to be stopped by his hands grasping at you as he told you to stop.

You turned yourself around, grinning as you looked at him and found his face flushed and chest heaving as he sat up and pulled you close for a hard, almost filthy kiss. You could feel his desperation, his need for you as it reached new heights, and you were more than ready for him when he laid you down one last time, kissing you like he'd go mad if he didn't have you right then and there.

"Now who's in a hurry?" you teased, bringing up your legs to wrap around his hips, welcoming what you knew would come next.

"You have no idea how hard it's been to not lose it," he told you, slipping his arm under one of your knees and pulling your leg up higher as he aligned your bodies together. He leaned down and kissed you before adding, "I'd fuck you all night if I could."

"I think I'd let you," you admitted, and he smiled at you - a real, surprisingly heart-wrenching smile that warned you from the inside out - before he kissed you one more time. This time he kissed you slowly, sweetly, and there was something so shockingly intimate about it that it made your heart slam harder in your chest. He kissed you the way that a real lover would, with what felt like genuine affection and care, and when he pulled away, your eyes met in a still, quiet moment.

Then he shifted forward, and your mouth fell open and you let out a shudder of a gasp as he filled you up. Your eyes fluttered shut but quickly opened in time to watch his own features tighten and eyes grow darker, his pleasure written on his face just for you. As desperate as you knew he was, he took it slow at first, pacing himself and building up a rhythm languid enough to keep him steady and keep you wanting more. He dropped his face against your neck and kissed you there, his measured and careful thrusts faltering when you began moving faster with him. You needed more, and he groaned and cursed as he gave in and started _really_ taking you.

He knew just how to move, where to hit and how to make it good for you, and you couldn't have been more thankful. You tugged a bit harshly on his hair, earning a moan from him as he lifted his head and looked _ravenously_ into your eyes before laying a searing kiss on your lips. He was moving faster now, self-control giving way to pure instinct and desire, and as good as it was, you couldn't help but maneuver yourself on top and seize control once the urge to do so became too much to ignore.

He grinned up at you once he was on his back, his hair a mess and his face flushed, and you didn't hesitate to grin back and then start riding him exactly how you wanted to. You sat up straight, his hands immediately reaching up to your breasts as you angled yourself just right and rocked back and forth, up and down, making you both moan carelessly loudly. The world and the people in it couldn't have been farther away than it was in that moment, and nothing else mattered. There was only you and only him, and despite how very different you both were, you found that you felt more open and comfortable with him than you had with any other man in a long time.

You reached your end first, the tension and pleasure building until it finally overcame you in your most intense release of the night. It was the first time all night that you let yourself moan his name, and as soon as you let it escape your lips, he was coming with you. Your chest was pressed to his, your hair a curtain around your faces as he held you tight and you panted against his neck, everything falling silent as the earth slowly began to spin again.

You were in sheer, exquisite bliss. It was the perfect and most unexpected ending to a day that had been a literal dream come true, and now your body was more sated as it had possibly ever been in your life. You stayed draped on his chest, tracing his tattoo again with your fingers as you listened to his heartbeat slowly calm and his breathing return to normal. All the while, he ran tired fingers through your hair and down your back, eyes closed and as happy and satisfied as you were.

You kissed his chest before chancing a peek up at his face. He opened his eyes and grinned down at you, and you loved the way that he looked in that moment - carefree, relaxed, appropriately disheveled. He really was a beautiful man, and he had been better than you would have believed possible prior to that night.

"Thanks for showing up," you told him with a little grin, just before pressing a soft little kiss to his lips.

"My pleasure," he drawled with a lazy smile, looking up into your eyes. "You're..." He trailed off and shook his head slightly, and when you prompted him to go on, he shrugged slightly and said quietly, "You're really something."

You smiled. "Yeah... so are you."

"I'll remind you of that next time you call me a well-meaning idiot."

You couldn't help but laugh, and your heart soared a little when he laughed with you and tucked you into his arms, holding you at his side. He kissed your temple, and you half-protested, "If we both fall asleep here, someone'll see us leave in the morning."

His eyes were already closed. "Don't care. I'm not leaving this bed unless you kick me out of it." He then cracked open one eye and asked, "Are you gonna kick me out of it?"

You chuckled and shook your head. "No. I guess you can just sneak out in the morning."

"Mhm," he agreed, closing his eyes again and nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Morning... after a shower."

You grinned. "Shower sex?"

"Gotta conserve water," he slurred slightly, exhaustion taking over. "Environment's an important issue, you know."

You chuckled, closing your own eyes as you snuggled against him and savored the warmth of his arms, and the feeling of being held by someone after such a long time spent alone. You had no illusions as to what this night had been, but you couldn't deny how wonderful it felt to be close to him.

You were nearly asleep when he said your name. You didn't open your eyes as you murmured, "Hm?"

"Wanna go out with me sometime?" he asked, possibly talking in his sleep and possibly not.

You smiled to yourself, still keeping your eyes closed. You shouldn't say yes, but... "Maybe."

"Is that a _no_ maybe or a _yes_ maybe?"

You giggled softly. "It's a... depends on how nice the date is maybe."

He groaned in reply and nodded. "All right. Well, after tonight, I think I owe you the nicest date of your life."

"I look forward to it," you replied, and you truly meant it.

You both then fell asleep, your long, happy, victorious day at last coming to a close. You didn't know what the future might hold or what the long term consequences of your actions might be, but you knew that you could handle it and that whatever those consequences were, they would be more than worth it.

It was one of the very, very few things the two of you would ever agree on.


End file.
